


Into the Country

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - World War II, Developing Relationship, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Friendship, Kidlock, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:04:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2076048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evacuated to his great-aunt's home in the country, Sherlock finds what he never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Country

Mycroft adjusted his brother’s jacket, fidgeting with the collar. Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes. Mycroft was worried. He was always worried about something. And with mum off with the codebreakers and father working with the army, they had left Sherlock in the care of his older brother the last few months. Only now Mycroft was sending him away too. He’d told Sherlock London wasn’t safe, that he’d be fine with great-aunt Mabel, that he’d be home before he knew it. But Sherlock knew he wasn’t certain. The war wasn’t going very well so far and there were rumors even among his schoolmates that the Germans could be bombing London within months.

“When you get off the train, Mr. Harris will be waiting for you,” said Mycroft. “Write me.”

“I will.” Sherlock adjusted his knapsack with his few belongings. He wasn’t a little kid, he was fourteen. He shouldn’t have to leave with the children.

Mycroft looked into his eyes a moment, then stepped back with a nod.

Sherlock gave a half-hearted wave and followed the others onto the train. He managed a window seat and looked out, expecting Mycroft to have headed back to his office already. Instead he was watching the train and looking sad. Clearly he hadn’t expected his brother to see him this way. Sherlock’s heart caught in his throat as the train started and Mycroft wiped at his eyes and finally turned away. He wondered what Mycroft knew. After all, he did work in the government. And suddenly Sherlock was afraid he wouldn’t see any of his family again.

Taking a breath, Sherlock wrapped his arms around his knapsack and closed his eyes. Mycroft had started teaching him how to order his thoughts and memories and the things he knew. The girl next to him elbowed him. “If you’re not going to look out the window, change me seats.”

Sherlock opened his eyes and started to speak, but caught himself. She was clearly much poorer than he was, and didn’t even have knapsack, just a name pinned to her shirt. Shutting his mouth with a click he got up and switched seats with her.

The train ride seemed to take forever. Someone came through and gave the children sandwiches. He gave his to the girl next to him. Some of the kids cried a little, quickly shushed by the older ones. He knew most of them had been assigned families. 

As the trip wore on and the train stopped here and there, more and more people got off. Finally he heard his stop announced and made his way to the door. No one else was getting off at this station and he looked around the platform, noticing how green everything was, even in the fall. It certainly wasn’t the city.

“Sherlock Holmes?” An older man came towards him, leaning a bit on his cane. “I’m Mr. Harris, taking you up to the manor.”

“Yes, that’s me.” said Sherlock, moving towards him.

“Right this way then, sir.”

Sherlock wasn’t sure the last time anyone had called _him_ sir, but he knew his great-aunt was a Lady. Her husband had died several years earlier and her only son in the Great War, so she lived in her manor house with a few servants and presided over a tiny village. He’d heard Mycroft mention that most of the land had been sold off, and the house would be too when she died, but for now she was comfortable enough.

Mr. Harris had an older car and he got the door for Sherlock. He slouched in the front seat and tried to ignore the sheer amount of green around him. It was nearly indecent, he thought. And most of it looked wild, not the carefully tended and manicured parks of London.

They went through the village itself so fast that Sherlock nearly missed it. Not far after that they turned up a drive and at last he felt he could relax a bit as he saw the manor grounds, at least near the house, were well cared for. An autumn wind blew coldly as Sherlock got out and he pulled his coat closer to himself as Mr. Harris led the way up to the front door.

A blond woman was straightening a few things as they came in and she smiled. “You must be Master Holmes. I’m Mrs. Watson. Your Great-Aunt is having her afternoon nap, but we’ve got a room made up for you.” She looked at Mr. Harris. “Luggage?”

“I didn’t bring anything,” said Sherlock, holding his knapsack a little tighter. “I had to leave quickly.”

“Oh well, that’s all right. We’ll get you some proper clothes soon enough.”

Sherlock was led up a staircase that could only be called grand and down the hall. “Lady Forster’s room is down that wing,” Mrs. Watson pointed. “Your room is down here.”

The room he was taken to was much larger than his room back in London. “I’ll come get you for supper, if I don’t see you before then,” said Mrs. Watson as she closed the door.

Sherlock stared around a minute. Besides the large bed there was a desk and a wardrobe and another door. A moment of investigation proved him right that it was the bathroom, with a large bathtub and a water closet. A bit more investigation showed that yes, there was electricity, no matter how far out in the country he was. Heavy blackout curtains hung in the big window, but he pushed them aside and gasped at the view.

The lawn didn’t go on very far before the land turned wild again. Here and there he could see farms with their own neat patches, and some sheep moved in the wild spaces. The autumn sky was blue and large. He stepped back and let the curtains fall shut. Climbing onto the big bed he took his knapsack and upended it.

There was an apple that someone, probably Mycroft, had slipped in, knowing how Sherlock didn’t always eat like he should. He looked at it a moment before biting into it. A copy of _The Outline of History_ that he’d taken from Mycroft’s study was here, as well as a few other books. He wondered if Great-Aunt Mabel had a library here somewhere. There were pens and pencils and writing paper. Really he’d paid no attention when he’d filled the bag; he’d been too angry that he had to leave. Grabbing one of the books, Sherlock leaned back against the pillows and was soon lost in the words.

Sherlock was startled by a knock on the door. He sat up and stared at it a moment before calling for them to enter. A blonde boy just slightly older than he was opened it. “Mum wanted me to come fetch you for supper.” His accent definitely wasn’t London.

Blinking at him, Sherlock set the book aside. He didn’t know there would be anyone near his age here. Still, he was cautious as he got to his feet. “All right.” He took in the boy’s appearance and what he’d said and quickly deduced that, like his mother, he worked for Lady Forster. He took care of the grounds; though he’d tried to clean himself up as much as he could, there was still dirt in the corners, and he was far too tanned for indoor work.

He met the boy’s eyes and realized he’d been staring a bit too long. But instead of being offended, the boy simply smiled at him. “I can imagine this is quite a bit different from the city. My name’s John Watson.”

“You take care of the grounds,” said Sherlock, moving towards him.

“Well, yes. How did you know?” John’s expression was curious.

Sherlock bit his lip before answering. “Your clothes and the tan. And Mr. Harris is a bit too old for that sort of work, isn’t he?”

“That’s brilliant,” grinned John.

“That’s not what most people say,” answered Sherlock.

“What do they say?”

“Piss off,” said Sherlock

John laughed and Sherlock found himself staring. “They’re idiots then. Come on, Lady Forster is expecting you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to beltainefaire and the writing circle.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
